


Adamant

by vulpixelates



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 19:59:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12824979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpixelates/pseuds/vulpixelates
Summary: Cullen and the Inquisitor make the most of the night before Adamant.





	Adamant

The Inquisitor rushed into his tent like a bat out of hell, leaving a trail of scared soldiers and guards in her wake. As he looked up from the reports he was discussing with one of his officers to see her march in, he would have laughed if he, himself, weren’t a mixture of worried and shocked when he saw the sparks of electricity escaping her fingertips.

In all his time around her, he’d never seen her lose control like this. So when she practically shouted for everyone to leave, he did not object. He sprang out of his chair and closed the tent behind the last person out before going to her. Her hair was down, a way he’d never seen it before, and seemed like it was defying gravity from the static of her lightning. She had a look on her face that Cullen couldn’t quite describe.

“Is—is there something you needed, Inquisitor?”

“ _Bleeding thorns_ , do _not_ call me that.” Her words were aggressive, and she seemed to immediately regret them. Her face was red, fists clenched at her sides. She sighed. “Please don’t call me that right now.”

“ _Ioren_ ,” he corrected. “Are you alright?”

“The entire camp is on edge. Everyone is so irritable! It is driving me insane. I broke up two fights on my way here, just from my tent. It’s less than fifty yards away.” She scoffed. “How have _I_ become a voice of reason? The world _must_ be ending.” She had been in her own world since she’d entered the tent, but suddenly she looked at him. “Will you lay with me tonight, Cullen?”

 “Wh-what?” he sputtered, choking on air. Surely he had imagined the words that just came out of her mouth.

“I am losing my mind with all of this _waiting_. I tried to convince Solas to train with me, to work on my Rift magic, but he insists that I should just sleep.” Shaking her head, glaring at the anchor that marked her hand, she continued, “But I _can’t_ sleep. My mind is racing. I need to turn it off—to distract myself.”

Cullen stared at her with wide eyes. Their kisses on the battlements had been heated, and the ones they shared against the door in the War Room after meetings even more so, and of course he had thought about it but she had not— _Maker, help me._

Noticing this expression, she froze.  “I—I’m sorry. Do you—Did I—If you don’t—”

“I do,” Cullen interrupted quickly. “I’m just, um, well… uh… a bit taken aback.”

Ioren blushed— _blushed_ , of all things. “I… suppose I could have given you a bit of a preamble rather than just jumping into this. Sorry.” She chortled at herself, as if suddenly realizing that she had been so, well, _sudden_. “I’m stressed. And despite everything that is going on, I still find myself thinking… about you.” As she met his gaze once more, a subtle heat built in her hazel eyes, nearly surprising Cullen more than her earlier proclamation. “Do you think about me?”

“I—of course I do,” he said, voice soft. “You know I do.” _All the time. Every minute of every day._

She smiled at him and he could swear that his heart skipped a beat. “Then, will you—”

Before she could finish, Cullen closed the distance between them and curved a hand behind her neck to bring her lips to his. She also let out a jolted gasp similar to the one she had made when he had first kissed her—a sound that went straight to his core like a spike of heat. But her shock was only momentary. Soon she was pressing herself against him, responding to his lips with small whimpers and as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, he cursed himself for how many layers of blasted armor he was wearing. Her hands found the leather straps at the front of his chest plate and gripped them tightly, holding him to her as if she feared he was going to move away at any moment.

He wouldn’t have been able to even if he tried. From the moment their lips met, the world around him dissolved. The noise of the busy encampment outside of his tent melted away and all that was left was the noises she was making into his mouth. He ate them hungrily, a growl escaping his throat. Had he ever wanted anything— _anyone_ more than he wanted her at this very moment?

_No, of course not._ Nothing could possibly compare, because _nobody_ could possibly compare. He had been with others but he hadn’t been so infatuated with anyone since his crush on someone in the Fereldan Circle when he was barely twenty, and even them… It was years ago; he was an entirely different man—if you could even have called him a man then, he was so young. It had never been like this. It had never been tangible. He had never been able to touch the feeling—touch them so intimately.

At this realization, Cullen brought a gloved hand to rest above Ioren’s heart. Even through the leather, he could feel the beating of her heart. She was here, in front of him. He needed to feel his skin on hers.

Evidently, she felt the same way; she first began unbuttoning her shirt but then started trying to get him out of his armor instead, seeming that more important. She pushed his mantle off of his shoulders and her deft fingers made quick work of his belt and tugged the fabric covering his plates free of his pants. They fell to the floor and she started trying to get the rest of the armor off, with little success.

After a moment of frustration, Ioren pulled away from their kiss and looked up at him with a frown, gently punching his chestplate. He barely felt the impact through the armor. “Why do you wear so many bloody layers? You sit at a desk all day.”

“ _What_? You think I sit around all day?”

“I mean, don’t you?”

Glowering at her, he grimly replied, “Not always.”

Ioren groaned. “I don’t care. Just get it off.” Noticing his expression, she added a drawn out, “Please?”

With a huff, he began removing his various pieces of armor. “I’ll have you know, I regularly aid in the training of our troops. Who do you think taught half of our early troops how to swing a sword?” He placed his plates, one by one, safely in their designated spot in a trunk as he spoke haughtily about the intense training regimen he oversaw, then took off his gloves and the leather layers under his armor, leaving him in a loose-fitting tunic, pants, and boots. “And I wear armor because I like to be prepared for the worst. What if another attack were to happen and I were caught with my—”

“Britches down?” Ioren interrupted with a smirk, taking his now-bare hand as he placed the last bit away. She brought it to her chest and placed it underneath her shirt where it was unbuttoned, holding firmly over one of her breasts. “We couldn’t have that now, could we?”

Breath and words caught in his throat, he took in the sensation of his hand against her skin. He felt her pulse thud against his palm, and instinctually cupped her, running a thumb lightly over her nipple, still underneath the thin fabric of her shirt. It hardened at his touch. She let out a content sigh and closed her eyes, dropping her hand and leaning into him.

For a quiet moment, he kept stroking her with his thumb and just watched her.

She was so breathtakingly beautiful. Her hair was a mess and she looked like she hadn’t slept in days, but she was still… exquisite. Freckles dances across her face and the exposed skin of her neck and chest, creating constellations that were so very her, and Cullen had the urge to taste every single one of them, visible or not. To trace them like a star chart. The thought drew out another growl and a surge of _want_. The sound took her out of the trance she’d been in, and she opened her eyes with a wicked grin.

And then the moment was over, and both of their hands were working on laces and buttons and buckles, tossing layer after layer out of the way until it was just the two of them standing—skin pressed against skin, undressed down to their small clothes, and lips dancing with renewed hunger. Having wrapped her arms around his neck, Ioren was pulling him down to her level. She took his bottom lip between her teeth and _tugs_ and he nearly lost control right then. He guided her over to the corner of his tent that has a fur rug laid out, and down onto it.

He settled above her, holding himself up on his elbows. “You’re so beautiful,” he told her, running his fingertips over her vallaslin, delicate and ornate. It reminded him of branches after the leaves had fallen in autumn.

The smile that spread over her lips took his breath away. “Smooth talker.” Her words were teasing, but the look she gave him was anything but. It was intense, like she was seeing into his very being. And she didn’t shy away from it.

Unable to think of any sort of intelligible response, Cullen brought his lips to the point on her nose where her vallaslin ended, and the corners of her mouth turned up even more before he slanted his lips over it in another kiss. All at once, the urge from a moment ago returned and he wanted his lips to be everywhere—he wanted to worship every inch of her with his mouth and tongue and teeth and fingertips. He needed to taste all of her.

He nuzzled his nose against her ear, inhaling the scent of her—like the cider his childhood neighbor used to make when the leaves began to turn in fall, all cinnamon and apples and a hint of smoke. Holding him to her by a handful of his hair, the elf shivered as his tongue traced her ear, tracing from the lobe up to the point and back down. Then his lips dragged down her neck, marking her with kisses and flicks of his tongue and brushes of his teeth. His fingers danced over the freckles that ran down her neck and to her collarbones, mouth trailing closely behind.

Slowly, his lips moved further down. He made direct eye contact as his mouth found one of her nipples, circling it with his tongue as she gasped and arched her back. It came to a point under his attentions and he blew a breath of cold air on it before moving to the next, repeating his actions until he felt her tremble and heard her whisper his name. The sound chipped away at his self-control, but he hung onto it as his lips traveled even lower. Her freckles were scattered but he connected them with a line of his tongue and fingers, until he found one _right_ below her bellybutton and placed a kiss over it.

“Oh, gods, please,” she murmured as he lingered, waiting for just those words.

He made his way between her thighs, finding the scent of her warmth even more intoxicating than the rest of her as he saw the wetness soaking through her small clothes—the only thing separating his reverent tongue from its intended place of worship. Through the fog of his lust, he held onto his control still and didn’t rip them off then and there. First, he brushed his lips over them, knowing she felt his hot breath against her as she whimpered and spread herself further before him. He pressed his mouth against where he knew her clit was and exhaled, tongue rubbing gently. Her hips jerked and soft pleas for more escaped her lips. As he repeated the motion, she rocked into him gently, and now it was his turn to tremble with the anticipation—from holding onto the last few moments he could before he hooked his fingers on her small clothes and tore them from her.

When he did and he finally saw the center of her, with her spread before him and vulnerable and _wanting_ , he swore this must be a dream because nothing could ever be so lovely. She looked down at him, holding herself up on one elbow so she could see when his mouth met her wet curls.

“ _Please,_ Cullen,” she pleaded once more, her eyes aflame, and that was all it took.

Cullen closed the distance between her wetness and his lips with unrepressed hunger. His tongue, soft and insistent, traced her slit, delving into her folds and tasting her. His patience for teasing was gone. Now was time to seek out what made her squirm, which motions made her shake and quiver. His lips and tongue sought out her clit while he slid a finger slowly inside of her, her warmth enveloping him and tightening around him, and relished in the way her breath caught in her throat. He watched her closely, taking in the sight of her grazing her teeth over her lower lip and her breasts heaving as she panted and committing it to memory. Soft mewls and moans filled his ears as he held her to his mouth with one arm around her thigh, driving his efforts to push her closer and closer to her peak.

When it hit, she clamped her thighs tightly around his head, tugging on his hair almost painfully with one hand while covering her mouth with the other to stifle her moans.

He looked up at her from between her legs, wet lips running lightly over her thighs when they finally loosened their grip on him. Her head remained thrown back, her neck bared and beautiful in the candlelight. As she caught her breath, she muttered what Cullen could only assume were a series of elven curses. She looked down at him in time to watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and she cursed even more.

Before he could stop himself, Cullen stuttered, “Did you—was that—okay?” He tried to hide the wave of insecurity that was washing over him now that he’d momentarily completed his task, and failed. It had been a while—not just since he’d done this, but since he’d done _this_.

Propping herself up on one elbow, Ioren let out a low, contented chuckle. “ _Okay_? Yes,” she said, using her grip in his hair to pull his lips back to hers, “more than okay.”

Her tongue teased his as they kissed, hot and silky. She moaned something about tasting herself on his tongue, and for a second, Cullen thought he might combust. He was sure he had never been so hard since he saw a woman naked for the first time. In his fog, he barely noticed when Ioren pushed him onto his back and straddled him, not breaking the kiss. His hardness was pressed between them, throbbing against both of their stomachs. He could feel the wetness on her thighs still. Her tongue went from his, to tracing the scar on his lip gingerly and placing a light kiss over it.

The opposite side of his mouth quirked up at the sweetness of the familiar gesture in the midst of this heated moment. His hands ventured down and he dared to grip her arse for the first time; it was firmer than he expected, solid with muscle.

With a soft sigh, Ioren’s lips made their way to his earlobe and she gently tugged at it. “Ma’haurasha,” she whispered, so softly that Cullen was sure she didn’t mean for him to hear her.

He had no idea what it meant, but the sound was beautiful from her lips, lips that he so rarely heard speak their native tongue—although, it would have even sounded lovely if she were insulting him and his entire family if she said it in that tone, with her hands caressing his arms like they were. When she began licking and nibbling and kissing at his neck, making her way from one side to another with each movement, he melted into her.

Slowly, her kisses moved lower, like his had earlier—dusting his collarbones and beyond with quick licks and nips, teasing a nipple with her lips, tracing down his abdomen, carefully avoiding the length laying across his stomach. She placed fleeting kisses next to it on either side, looking up at him looking at her and smiling, and wet her lips.

“You—don’t have to,” he said, and immediately kicked himself. But if he hadn’t said it, he wouldn’t be him. He’d only had someone do what she was leading up to once before, and he’d been so drunk that he couldn’t remember solid details if he tried. (He tried often.)

“I know,” she replied, her breath warm against the head. “But I want to, Cullen.” She placed a kiss there, where a drop of wetness had leaked out, and flicked out her tongue to catch it.

Cullen trembled from even so light a touch and suppressed a groan. “Maker’s _breath_.”

Ioren didn’t hold back her giggle of satisfaction and just as he was opening his mouth to say “ _please_ ,” her tongue met him again, rubbing under the head. Cullen clutched the fur underneath them and exhaled sharply. At that moment, he knew both that she would be the death of him and that he would love every second of it.

Slowly and deliberately, she ran her tongue flatly up and down his shaft, maintaining eye contact with a little smirk. Cullen’s eyes flickered back and forth between her lips and eyes, dark and full of want, suddenly _desperate_ to feel the warmth of her lips wrapped around him. But she made him _wait_ and wait, laving every inch of him with a languid tongue, until he was making noises he didn’t even know he was capable of making and the muscles in his stomach were twitching. She had him wrapped around her finger.

When she finally, _finally_ took him in her hand, he saw the heavens part and make way for his cock. With a slow, tantalizing lick at his head, she took him into her mouth. Her tongue stroked the underside of his shaft as she dragged her mouth up and down on him, just taking the first few inches in on each down stroke. From there, it was a blur, between her mouth and her hand, the stroking and sucking. It felt like it was an eternity of pleasure and squirming under her ministrations and the _sounds_. Maker, the sounds were what did him in. Soon she was happily humming around him in response to his jerks and moans, and Cullen was so close that he had to pull her off of him by her shoulder, rather unceremoniously.

With the disappointed look on her face, he was worried he had insulted her somehow. But it melted away as she straddled his lap again and smiled down at him with swollen, red lips.

“You taste good,” she told him. He responded by violently blushing and pulling her lips to hers to hide the redness on his cheeks, getting a hint of his own bitterness from her lips and tongue.

Hands on her waist, he pulled her to him, needing to feel her skin against his as much as possible. Her body was lithe and small, compared to the human women he was used to, though muscled in a way that he hadn’t expected of a mage—but it fit her. She was the most formidable person he had ever met. This was the woman who took down a high dragon, who stepped out of the Fade unharmed amidst the rubble of Haven, who commanded with such confidence and makeshift skill. And for now, none of that matters because she was _his_ and he was so utterly and completely hers.

She whispered his name, her hot breath against his jawbone followed by fleeting kisses across his face, and grinded her hips into his with his cock trapped between them, eliciting another strangled noise from Cullen. “ _Sathan_ , ar isala ma,” she murmured, nuzzling into his neck. “I need to feel you inside of me.”

Cullen growled and flipped her onto her back. One of his hands wove itself into her hair and he kissed her neck, in the place that he now knew drove her wild. Arching her back, Ioren whimpered, urging him to give her what she needed. It didn’t take long before Cullen was moving his knees up, getting a good position for leverage, and lining his cock up with her dripping entrance. They both looked down to watch as he rubbed his head against her slit, circling her clit slowly until they were shuddering together and he couldn’t wait anymore.

Muttering more of the same elven curses from earlier, Ioren crumbled beneath him. All of her control from only minutes before was gone and replaced with need and lust and desire. She hooked her legs over Cullen’s, spreading herself even further as he thrust into her over and over, giving her more each time. He was already near the edge from her earlier efforts, so he worked slowly; he snuck a hand down her stomach and his fingertips found her clit. Ioren angled her hips up and moaned loudly now, nails dragging down his back. Her face twisted, vallaslin-covered brow furrowed, and Cullen watched her as he fucked her, reveling in the fact that _he_ was the one doing this to her. He increased his efforts on her clit and upped his pace, wanting to drive her over the edge.

And when he did, she dug her nails into his skin hard enough to leave a mark and clenched around him so tightly that he saw stars. He slowed but kept thrusting as she drifted down and settled beneath him, a dreamy look on her face. For some reason, he had the overwhelming urge to kiss her nose again, and he did so, earning a smile. She looked up at him, eyes still ablaze, and her tongue flicked out to wet her bottom lip again, as she had before she took him into her mouth.

Without thinking, Cullen brought his wet fingers from where it was rubbing slow circles on her clit to her lips, rubbing them along her lower lip until she understood what he wanted and took them into her mouth, sucking gently and sending spikes of arousal straight to his cock as he remembered her tongue on him. Where the impulse to do so came from, he had no idea—he had never thought of doing something that, to him, seemed so ridiculously obscene and wanton, except maybe in his filthiest daydreams—but soon Ioren was moaning around his fingers at the taste of herself, sucking and licking and biting, and he was muttering obscenities that he was sure to be embarrassed about later. She unraveled him further with each stroke of her tongue.

Every ounce of control he seemed to have slipped out of his grasp as he watched her, sucked straight from his fingertips, and he _pounded_ into her. The sound of their bodies coming together was sharp and constant, and Cullen let out a series of deep, loud groans as an orgasm surged through his body. He emptied himself into her with a final thrust, and she moaned around his fingers still.

As he caught his breath and removed his fingers from her lips, he could swear that she said something to him, soft and sweet, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pleasant ache left in the wake of their lovemaking. Burying his face in the nape of her neck, he relished the feeling of their bodies still joined, and pulled her to him. He didn’t want it to end. Ioren wiggled against him happily, catching her own breath.

Slowly, Cullen came back to himself, and even more slowly, withdrew from her. He flopped onto his back and pulled her with him; Ioren let out a satisfied sigh and nuzzled her face into him. They were silent for a long time, taking in what they knew might be some of their last moments of peace for the next few days. Cullen felt his heart swell as he looked at her—so beautiful, so strong, so radiant—and brushed hair out of her face that had been stuck to her forehead from sweat. Both of them were covered with it, despite the cold outside of the tent. The fur beneath them was more comforting now than it had been earlier. He had a blanket across the tent that he wanted to drape over them, but it was so far away and it meant leaving this moment.

 “That was… unexpected,” he said finally, his voice husky.

Ioren laughed her airy, light laugh and curled into him further. “That it was.” She tilted her head up to she could look up at him. “Although, I can’t say I’m surprised that you’re so…” She trailed off, looking for the words.

Panic spiked in Cullen’s chest and a wave of self-consciousness ran over him. “I’m—what?” He hoped he was hiding the nerves from his voice.

However, based on the look she gave him, he knew he didn’t. Ioren twisted herself so she could easily look in his eyes. “ _Unbelievably attractive_ ,” she finished softly. “Superbly amorous. Inconceivably dexterous. Remarkably well-endowed.” Each phrase was punctuated by an effusive kiss to his jawline and by him blushing a little brighter.

“I—well—thank you.”

Ioren giggled and nuzzled her face into the nape of his neck.  “Has nobody ever told you how lovely you are?” she asked, and despite her light tone, it was like a qunari raider had punched him straight in to the heart.  

_No, not like this._ Maker, he was in trouble. “I suppose nobody has ever had the opportunity.” He tried to keep his tone just as easy-going as hers had been.

“What?” she replied, looking back up at him and propping herself up on an elbow, eyes wide with astonishment and confusion. “Cullen, are you— _were_ you—”

“What?”

“Was this your—”

“ _Oh_ ,” Cullen said as realization flooded him. “No, _no_. _Andraste preserve me_. Of course not.” The blushing was back again, and he was reminded of when she had asked him about Templar vows, how she had thrown him so off-guard. He’d thought about why she might be asking for weeks after. Did she think him some innocent Chantry boy? “Maker’s breath, no. I’ve just—I’ve never…” He took a deep breath. How could he say this in a way that didn’t make him sound like a lovelorn pup?

Of course, he _was_ a lovelorn pup, and he was absolutely certain that he was falling in love with the glorious woman in his arms, especially after the past hour, but he had no bloody clue what he was doing. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.

“It’s never been like this,” he admitted finally, hoping that was enough but not too much.

She smiled a crooked, satisfied smile as her fingers played lightly with his dusting of chest hairs. “Oh really? Tell me more.”

Cullen grinned back and let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “Maker’s breath, you cruel minx. You love torturing me, don’t you?”

“ _Torture_?” she teased with false shock. “If what we just did was torture, I can’t imagine what they must do in the prisons of Val Royeaux.”

“They mercilessly tease until their prisoners make fools of themselves and die of embarrassment.”

She laughed once more—a sound that was slowly becoming one of Cullen’s favorites, followed _very_ closely by the ones she had been making mere minutes earlier. “My sweet man, if you don’t want me to tease you, you’ll have to stop being so adorable when you’re all flustered and stuttering. Gods, it might be my favorite thing in the world.” With a quiet sigh, she placed a lingering kiss on the shoulder closest to her, her mood shifting, and looked at him so genuinely, so intimately that he was sure she was peering into his soul. “I don’t care about anything that came before this, you know. You don’t have to share—and I won’t pry—but you don’t have to hide, either. It won’t change the way I feel about you. It won’t change this. I’ll… I’ll care for you just the same.”

Cullen wasn’t sure what she was talking about specifically, and maybe she wasn’t sure either, but for a moment, a weight lifted off of his chest. The words nearly brought tears to his eyes. He shoved the tears down, of course. But her sentiment was something he hadn’t known he’d needed to hear until it left her lips.

Anything he could say after seemed insignificant and he never did have a way with words, but he quietly added, “I feel the same way,” before going silent again.

**Author's Note:**

> Elven Translations:  
> Sathan, ar isala ma – please, I need you  
> ‘Ma’haurasha – my honey (very sexual endearment, essentially means “you make me wet”)


End file.
